


A Proper Welcome

by Resoan



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 20:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3395195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resoan/pseuds/Resoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After fulfilling whatever obligations he must after leaving Skyhold, Solas finally returns. Lavellan greets him properly this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Proper Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired from the Kiss Meme going around tumblr, specifically the prompts for a 'Seductive Kiss' and a 'French Kiss'.

"You’re back." There was little else to say as she looked up from her desk, her elbows settling upon the surface and the corners of her lips twisting just barely into a not-quite smile. "Or is this yet another prelude to another major feat you feel the need to complete?" Lavellan’s head tilted to the side as sarcasm colored her tone; they’d already had most of their reunion conversation when she’d first found him, and while his answer at the time had been unsatisfactory -  _Wait for me -_ she had done so, however impatiently.

Her jape earned a crooked expression from him, mischief clouding his eyes; truly, she found it difficult to see him as the same person he was in the Inquisition now that she knew his true identity: Fen’Harel, elven trickster and antagonist in so many Dalish tales. She could see the lack of such a burden had made his steps easier, made him feel more comfortable around her; he was now able to act as he truly desired rather than in a way which lent itself to covering all his secrets: to maintain the facade he’d crafted for the supposed benefit of others.

"One major feat would be enough for any man. Do you not agree?" His tone was japing, and the lightheartedness within it made Lavellan smile despite herself. 

"But you are no ordinary man - or, for that matter, a man." Her smile threatened to spill over into a smirk, and the sound of his laughter made her chest swell with a warm affection she hadn’t felt in a long, long while. 

"Ah. Is it to be a play on semantics, then?" he continued, grey eyes alighting with a gleam she had not seen before. 

"Nothing about this, between  _us_ , has ever been a  _play_ , Solas,” Lavellan replied, tone darkening as she stood from her desk, fingers flexing at her sides as she squared her shoulders and stood tall. 

"No," Solas agreed, and it was then he paused, a familiar, pained emotion twisting his expression as he caught her gaze and held it. "What is it to be, then? Am I welcome, or shall I take my leave?" The shock of Solas’s identity had caused her to be…less than kind when they’d last met, yet she could only applaud him his arrival: he’d come even after witnessing her reaction, after withstanding all the harsh words she’d hurled in his direction. 

Her stomach sank at the memory; he had not deserved any of the abuse, and for a god so renowned for being arrogant, he looked remarkably small while he awaited her reply, eyes alternating between downcast and on her person. “My words were thoughtless and cruel, Solas,” she admitted, lips pulling into a deep frown. “I regret them, and all the pain they inflicted upon you.” He held his hand up then, stone-grey eyes hardening.

"You do not owe me an explanation, Inquisitor, nor an apology. I was selfish, careless, and I deserved far worse than what was given me." His self-deprecating words forced her lips to purse in irritation, and she approached just as he looked up to catch her gaze again. 

"Stop. Just  _stop_ ,” Lavellan instructed, head shaking even as she crossed the gap between them. “You’re always playing the martyr, always taking the responsibility when circumstances are so much more complicated than all that.” She turned her gaze away, eyes blinking away tears she stoutly refused to let down her cheeks. “I was angry and depressed and hurt. I took out my frustrations on you, and that has no excuse, so please. Just stop trying to blame yourself for everything.” 

She scarcely even realized her hands had settled on his shoulders, and the softness of his eyes when she had strength enough to look up sapped what little remained in her; his arms rounded her torso in a single, fluid motion, and she breathed easier when her head came to rest on his shoulder. “Perhaps I am not the only one who has yet to forgive herself.” His words were honeyed and murmured gently against the shell of her ear, and she shuddered out a quiet laugh before nodding against him.

"Dread Wolf," Lavellan murmured as she pulled back from his shoulder, her head shaking and her tone a cross between amused and ironic; "I should have been able to guess from all the signs. I suppose I was simply too distracted by other things…" She allowed her voice to trail off, and the laughter that rumbled in Solas’s chest in response was gruffer, deeper, more implicative than the lighthearted chuckles she’d heard from him before.

"I suppose I did keep you…well occupied." The cheeky smile crookedly spread across his lips distracted her if only from its novelty, though she did eventually find her way back to his eyes before shaking her head at him. 

"The best distraction I’ve yet to find," she murmured, her right hand slipping across his shoulder to instead settle at the base of his neck, her fingertips just barely able to scrape across his jaw. 

"Mm. A sentiment we both share, it would seem." His words first curled around her ear before creeping down her neck, the warmth of his breath reminding Lavellan how very close they now stood. "Inquisitor…?" There was an inquiring tone in Solas’s voice, though Lavellan shook her head just as the word finished leaping from his tongue.

” _Vhenan_ ,” she corrected, though she was not afforded time enough to watch Solas’s reaction; the kiss came swiftly, heatedly: in a seeming, swirling haze of passion and lust that very nearly overwhelmed her then and there. Where before a small facet of hesitancy in Solas’s kisses had always been present: the attempt to hold himself back when he could not allow his identity or his plans to be revealed,  now…such a facade had been stripped away, and he had no reason to keep such things to himself.

It threatened to consume her, and just when she thought she had no care to ever breathe again if it meant parting from him, his forehead slid against hers and his lips slid away slightly parted: gasping quietly for air. She thought to tell him that she was going nowhere, that there was no need to rush, but the urgency she felt made such a reassurance a lie; the hand at his neck wove around until she tilted his head down and lifted her lips to kiss him again, only this time, she did not wait for him to instigate anything further.

Her tongue slithered between already-parted lips, and the sound she received for her trouble only fanned the flames she felt just below the surface of her skin; his hand slipped further down her back, past her waist until it cupped the swell of her backside and squeezed. She could feel him smirk against her lips at the sudden gasp she let out, and when he began to take a step closer towards her bed, she did not attempt to stop him: had no  _desire_  to stop him.

They fell to her bed in a rather tangled heap of limbs: hands reaching and grasping and  _holding_ , and when Lavellan dared to open her eyes, it was only to see the very familiar warmth in his eyes she’d seen since their first journey into the Fade; his identity perhaps hadn’t been what she expected, but the fact remained that he was still  _Solas_. Her breath stilled in her throat as one of his legs slipped between her own, and the kiss that followed was torrid: as though some sort of magic had enchanted it with fire. 

Questing hands slid just underneath the hem of her tunic, the soft pads of his fingertips gently pressing upwards towards her belly button; it was all she could do not to writhe, and while she attempted to keep a moan from her lips, it slipped out regardless when his lips followed after his fingers. He hummed out a pleased sound when he heard it, though his patience was another facade: another moment later, and her tunic was tossed aside - a few clasps undoubtedly ripped and in need of mending.

The rush of cooler air made her shiver, though she did not stay cool for long; the deft touches after that all seemed to blur together: lingering points of contact that seemed to burn themselves not only into her skin, but into her memory, the hazy lines of consciousness even as her eyes seemed to remain eternally closed. 

Her quiet gasps and sharp inhalations abruptly shifted as what began as gentle, teasing kisses escalated to sharp nicks of his teeth and subsequent apologetic - and open-mouthed - kisses against her collarbones and between her breasts. His name became a whisper on her lips then, desperately clawing its way out despite how she might have tried to contain it, and she forced her eyes open when she felt him still above her; dilated eyes awaited her half-lidded gaze, though it was far more than a simple, lustful gleam in his eyes. 

Soft yet savage, fond but feral: he struggled between two very real parts of himself that had yet to reconcile, though Lavellan lifted a hand and cupped the side of his face not long after; her smile was slight but filled but reassurance, and it grounded him, even began to make him realize that to revel in one facet did not mean the complete exclusion of the other. Such became apparent as his hands trailed down her sides and to the fabric hugging her hips before they slid away as readily as her tunic had earlier; the touches themselves were soft and meaningful, but the urgency and swiftness of them spoke of more than an emotional entanglement.

Chuckles slipped from her lips as her hands slid to his sides and she gripped just enough to switch positions, her reaction mostly borne of Solas’s dazed expression before he glanced up and reached for her face with his hands to drag her down for a heavy kiss that clouded her mind and made her forget what she’d been about to do. Her hands trembled even as they smoothed against his chest, and she felt more than saw his breathing falter, the air in his lungs pausing at the back of his throat: waiting, always  _waiting_  for her to continue. 

It was only reluctantly that the two parted from their kiss to slide the fabric from his chest over his head, and even then, it resumed as though it had never once stopped. Her heart thudded loudly against the inside of her rib cage, and when Solas inexplicably sat upright and slipped his arms around her torso, it began to race all the more. He mouthed gentle kisses against her cheek, near the lobe of her ear, the corner of her mouth, and while she appreciated the subtle sweetness of his actions, he’d been too skilled in simultaneously pushing her towards the edge and holding her back from it. Had it not been such a tender gesture, she may have accused him of doing so on purpose.

"Solas." Her voice was heavy, tone dragged down by the need raking down her spine and pooling deep in her belly; Lavellan would never quite know how he managed to remove what remained of his clothing, though for the moment, she didn’t  _care_ : all that mattered was finding relief from the build-up of pressure that made her all too aware of how swiftly something as benign as a slight brush of his fingers against her side affected her. 

The pressure merely intensified as she lifted her hips with no small amount of effort, and she utterly missed the expressions flitting across his face as she settled on his lap, back rigid and arched delicately. Her hands squeezed his shoulders, fingernails digging crescent-shaped furrows into the pale skin there, though it was undoubtedly a pinprick of discomfort compared to the veritable haze of ecstasy that had all-but consumed him by then.

It took all of her concentration to even begin thinking of moving, though for the most part, Solas was patient; his jaw tensed, adam’s apple bobbed, and Lavellan pointedly refused to notice as a bead of sweat swept down his jawline. The rhythm, at first, was slow, steadying, perhaps even tinged with uncertainty; Solas’s hands remained on her hips, both to stabilize her and to keep her close - not that he feared she might change her mind and leave. As time passed, however, it became increasingly apparent that his self-control was only so strong; his thumbs pressed deeper into the delicate flesh on her thighs, and Lavellan let out a ragged moan when his hips unexpectedly began to move in time with her own.

Her moans came fewer breaths apart as the pace continued to quicken, though it was one neither could maintain for long - they had not been together in a long while, and it showed. It continued until it was little more than a frenzied, uncontrolled motion, and Lavellan was the first to lose all control; her cry echoed within the chamber, and she did not even feel when Solas bit down at the base of her neck to keep from following in such a vocal manner - not that it worked.

The pair sagged against her sheets as the euphoric high began to wear off, breathing quiet but audible and arms wrapped warmly against the other; “Re ha’lam na’shiral, ma lath. An’arth sahlin,” she murmured, her cheek nestled gently against his chest. Her eyes angled up to see his reaction, and the smile she saw there warmed her heart until it threatened to overflow.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan.  _Uth_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do have the translations for the elven language I used at the end (though I’m no expert on it, so take it with a grain of salt, if you please).
> 
> Re ha’lam na’shiral, ma lath. An’arth sahlin: It’s the end of your journey, my love. You’re home now.
> 
> Ar lath ma, vhenan. Uth: I love you, my heart. Always.


End file.
